CHAPTER 20

The consensus in the market is that we need to visit Rafferty’s on the second level of the promenade. As soon as we hit the second level, the crowd and the flashing red signs point us the way to the “Pearl of Perlas.” I’m partial to the animated clam accompanying that particular advertisement.

Music thrums from inside the bar. This is the kind of place I would’ve loved once—too bad I have work to do. I school myself to ignore the dancers and fall in behind Dina, who’s best suited to shoving her way toward the bar. Her solid strength forges a path for Loras and me. When we shoulder up beside her, she’s already ordering drinks.

Loras looks a little overwhelmed by the place, but he’s drawing attention from all comers: male, female, and other. The man is simply too pretty for it to be otherwise, even now. I grin as one of them tries to chat him up.

Handing over her credit spike, Dina pays for our booze, and I snag mine, a pale amber something. If I know her, it’ll put me on my ass if I’m not careful. I take a sip. Yep, it’s potent, but I don’t sputter as it blazes down my throat. After the homebrew I drank in Wickville, this is smooth in comparison.

When the servo whirs down the counter toward me, I tap the “personal service requested” button. Bots can efficiently mind a bar, but they’re not good with questions, unless they’re preprogrammed. Like, Where’s the hydroponics garden? or Where can I get a new shockstick?

Dina leans over and whispers, “Should we rescue him?”

The woman who cornered Loras has a shock of bright red hair running in a striped tail down the center of her head. She’s humanoid, but I don’t think she’s wholly human. Maybe she comes from a colony that interbred with the native population because she has heavy epicanthic folds and webbed fingers. Humans are wonderfully adaptive.

I shrug. “Not unless he looks to us for help, or she tries to drag him off.”

We nurse our drinks for five minutes, waiting for someone to answer my page. In that time, two men and a woman try their luck with Dina. She puts them off politely but firmly. Good on you, Your Highness. You really do love Hit. For a few span, I consider teasing her about twu wuv, after all the shit she gave me about March.

Dina interprets my expression correctly, and her eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

Before I can decide whether it’s worth the risk, a man jostles me. I think he wants to order, so I ease back from the counter. When it happens a third time, I spin to face him.

“Do you need something?” I ask, trying to be polite.

We can’t afford to get kicked out of here before we ask a few questions, but I can’t stand being manhandled by strangers. My muscles are coiled, ready to knock a few of this guy’s teeth out as an object lesson against hassling random women.

“Hey, it is you,” the idiot exclaims.

“Huh?”

“You’re Sirantha Jax.”

A groupie. I would’ve thought people had a shorter memory. I’m not on the vids anymore. Shouldn’t there be somebody who’s replaced me by now?

To my dismay, he waves his arms excitedly until he has the attention of the whole room. “Guess what, folks? We have a celebrity here tonight!”

Oh, shit. I’d nearly forgotten about this.

My face heats as so many eyes are trained on me. Once, I gloried in this. I’d have jumped up on the bar and done a dance, given them what they wanted, until they were cheering me with wild enthusiasm. I give a half hearted wave and step a little closer to Dina. Dammit, I wanted to be discreet—I mentioned it to Hon, for Mary’s sake—and it turns out I’m the mission’s weak point.

“Show us your tits, love!”

“I saw ’em on the vids,” a drunk says. “They ain’t so great. Not big enough.”

Another agrees, “She’s kinda old now, too. I bet they’re starting to sag, unless she’s getting Rejuvenex regular.”

“Which one are you banging? The pretty bloke or the butch?” somebody shouts.

A wiseass near the back answers, “Both, if I know Jax!”

But they don’t know me. None of them do.

I don’t know how to defuse the situation because I can’t give them what they want, and the mood seems to be getting uglier. They begin rumbling about how I was the one that put half of Farwan’s people out of work, easy prey for raiders and the like. So now I’ve arrived in—and some would argue it’s richly deserved—my personal hell.

“Give us a kiss.” A guy nearby gets grabby, and his arms go ’round my waist.

I fight him back with an elbow to the sternum. “Hands off!”

My temper’s barely in check at this point. With a hum, Dina’s shockstick goes live, and the way she handles it clears a small circle around us. The music has stopped, and we’re ringed in half-drunk nulls. I don’t see a way for this to end well.

Until a tall man in black comes striding through the crowd.

He has long silver hair and a weathered, brown face, but he looks vital and vigorous. A goatee frames his mouth, which is compressed in a thin, angry line. Behind him come a couple of Peacemaker units, and the other patrons decide it’s not worth the hassle. With a low rumble, they return to their business.

“Are you prescient, Ms. Jax?”

I raise my brows at the question. “Excuse me?”

“I just thought you might be, as you rang for assistance before the trouble started. Maybe you saw it coming.” The stranger flashes me a white grin.

“With her around, it’s not prescience,” Dina mutters. “Just a simple matter of playing the odds.”

“Let’s retire to the VIP lounge, and you can tell me what you need.” The tall man leads the way.

As long as it gets me out of here, I’m all for that. I glance back to make sure Dina and Loras are with me, then I pass through the automated door at the back of the bar. A short hallway connects to another area, one that’s smaller and quieter. The music is cool rather than raucous. The VIP lounge is decorated in shades of silver and blue, with a lush carpet underfoot. There are only five other people present, and they don’t look interested in our business. Excellent.

Our rescuer indicates we should have a seat. Once everyone is comfortable, he says, “I’m Erul McTavish Rafferty . . . but everyone calls me Mac. I own the place. I gather you’re not here to enjoy the ambiance?”

“The liquor is good,” I assure him. “But I’m looking for a friend.” I’m not keen on lying to someone who pulled me out of a tight spot, but I figure Evelyn and I would be friends if she had any idea who I am. “We heard this is the place to get information.”

He mulls that over. “Maybe I can help. What can you tell me about this person?”

“Her name is Evelyn Dasad, and she’s with the Science Corps. She survived a Morgut attack, and a freighter picked her up. They dropped her off here. I came as soon as I could.” All more or less true.

“Seems like someone as close as you purport to be would’ve heard from Evelyn, saying where she was, if she wanted you to know.”

Crap, he’s smart. I was hoping he wouldn’t realize that. I’m not going to be able to lie to him, so I don’t bother.

“We just want to talk to her, that’s all.”

Dina agrees, “If you could arrange a meet, it would be best. If you don’t trust us, you can send your Peacemaker units along. We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“I am incapable of it,” Loras adds.

That makes Mac take a closer look. “Mary’s grace, you’re La’hengrin. Good thing I got you out of there when I did. Spacers love to steal your kind.”

The observation pains me, as I’m starting to see the universe from Loras’s point of view. Things are stolen; people are kidnapped. I can’t afford to alienate this man, unfortunately, so I don’t correct him. But I’m still pissed on my friend’s behalf.

“I’ll send a message to Evelyn,” Mac finally allows. “That’s all I promise.”

“Don’t you want credits up front?” I ask. Most stations have a fixer—the man to see to get things done, and market gossip led us here to Rafferty’s for that kind of business—but such men don’t usually work for free.

“We’ll talk about what I want later,” he answers. “In the meantime, I suggest you three return to your ship and try to stay out of trouble.”

I raise a brow. “Is Perlas dangerous these days?”

He shrugs. “No more than anywhere else in these uncertain times. But I will say, they’ve been demonstrating more. More fights to break up.”

“Noted,” Dina says.

I incline my head, pushing to my feet. “We’ll head back to the Dauntless, then. Here’s my personal comm code, whenever you have word for us.” I beam the info to his handheld. “Is there a back exit? I’d rather not go out there and get them worked up again.”

“This way.”

In short order, we find ourselves on the other side of the promenade. Now all we can do is wait, and hope Hon stays out of trouble better than me.

.CLASSIFIED-TRANSMISSION.

. GOOD WORK.

.FROM-SUNI_TARN.

.TO-EDUN_LEVITER.

. ENCRYPT-DESTR UCT-ENABLED.

I collect we shall eschew salutations henceforth.

To business, then. First, let me commend you on that research. It was truly invaluable.

Even now, we have begun to manufacture the toxin. I call it Morfex. The way it works is truly ingenious. Our scientists have improved the delivery system. It’s been upgraded into gaseous form, and the Morgut will theoretically absorb it through the membranes around their eyes. It eliminates the need for the poison to be ingested or applied to an open wound.

Unfortunately, we don’t have any Morgut upon which to test it, and the weapon is harmless to us. Your first order of business is to procure a live specimen, which I know will be difficult, and deliver it to the following coordinates: attachment follows. The sooner we complete clinical trials, the sooner we can proceed and get our soldiers outfitted. Every advantage matters.

Your second order of business is to locate a Morgut vessel, relatively intact. We know that their weapons are better than ours. Now I want to analyze how and why, so we can compensate for it in the production of our ships and upgrade the ones already on patrol. Get me those results as quick as you can, in addition to the scans you performed on the salvage you retrieved. I want a complete itemized list of everything you find and what it does.

Finally, put some thought into those alternate revenue sources. We cannot assume we will win the war quickly, though I pray to Mary it is so.

Therefore, what kind of tariffs? On what goods? Bear in mind: The people cannot afford much in these difficult times. The last thing I want is for the Conglomerate to become a replacement for Farwan. We must do better, or they will think—rightfully so—that they have merely exchanged one boot on their necks for another.

Your name strikes terror into the hearts of common men, sir, but if they knew of your work on our behalf, I am sure they would sing your praises. I only wish they understood the truth.

.ATTACHMENT-COORDINATES-FOLLOWS.

.END-TRANSMISSION.

. COPY-ATTACHMENT.

.FILES-DOWNLOADED.

. ACTIVATE-WORM: Y/N?

.Y.

.TRANSMISSION-DESTROYED.